Spring
I like spring. Why? I like flowers. There, I said it. That sounded gay, right? Yeah, I am. I like flowers. They're so pretty and happy and wow I'm stupid. Matt's my name, and I'm a closeted flower-lover. And Mello-lover, but that's another story.
Oh, what the hell. (Wow, I'm hanging around Mells too much…)
I've been infatuated with Mello since the day we met. It was spring. It was sunny. Mello's hair was shiny. I was a stupid seven-year-old. He came from a screwed up home—abusive dad and stoner mom. Dad killed mom, raped son. He told me. I wonder if that's why he's such a sexual person. I've heard stuff in psych class (hey, I'm allowed to listen sometimes!) about that. Sexual…
Matt, shut up.
Oh god, I'm talking to myself.
The hair obsession grew into a crush. When I was ten, I realized I was gay for Mello. I freaked out. It was Easter and I had given Mello chocolate. He gave me a huge hug and I got a weird feeling inside. I was ten, so it wasn't sexual attraction. More emotional and intellectual. Mello's really smart. I love that we can have intelligent conversation.
Spring is a nice season, don't you think?